“The breezeway?”
“Uh-huh. I came out here last night and checked it out when everybody was asleep. You’ve got an alarm system that kicks on the yard lights whenever anybody approaches the house.”
“I guess so.”
“That means that when the person who did this to you ran off, you had a very good chance to see his face.”
“Oh.”
I waited for her to say more and when she didn’t, I watched her for a moment — she wore an aqua blouse and jeans and white socks — and then I said, “I think you know who did this to you. And I think that you’re trying to protect him.”
“You keep saying ‘him’, Jack. Maybe it was a woman.”
“Is that what you’re telling me? That it was a woman?”
“No, but—”
“It’ll come out eventually, Molly. One way or the other, the police are going to figure it out who did this to you.”
“I just want it to be over with. I’ve accepted it and I just want it to be over with.”
“It was either Paul or Mr. Meacham, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t want to talk anymore, Jack.”
“Your mother loves you, Molly.”
“I know.”
“And she’s very worried about you.”
“I know that, too.”
“She doesn’t like the idea that whoever did this is still out there running around free.”
“It’s over with, Jack. It happened. And I don’t have any choice but to accept it. People accept things all the time. There was a girl in my class two years ago who lost her legs in a tractor accident. She was staying on her uncle’s farm. She’ll never be able to walk again. People accept things all the time.”
“He should have to pay for doing this, Molly. I don’t know what’s going through your head, but nothing justifies somebody doing this to you. Nothing.”
I stood up.
“Susan is worried about you, too.”
She nodded. “I’d like to watch this show now, if you don’t mind.” And smiled for the first time. Her scars were hideous in the flickering lights of the TV picture tube. “I appreciate you caring about me, Jack. You’re a nice guy. You really are.”
When I got downstairs, I found Susan and Clarence waiting for me. The big sheepdog lay next to the desk where Susan was working on her homework.
As always, the overtrained dog barked as I approached. I was going to get him some Thorazine for Christmas.
“Mom said to say goodbye. She had to run back to work.” Then: “How’d it go with Molly?”
I told her about coming here last night and testing the yard lights. “She had to’ve gotten a good look at the person who did this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Tell me one more time. You were sitting in here watching TV—”
“—and I heard her scream and then I ran out to the breezeway and I saw somebody at the edge of the yard running away. He went up over the white fence out there.”
“You said ‘he’. Male?”
“I think so.”
“And Molly was—”
“Molly was in a heap on the breezeway floor. When I flipped on the light, all I could see was blood. She was in pretty bad shape. Then Clarence came running out and he was barking like crazy.” Then: “I think she knows. Who did it, I mean.”
“So do I.”
“But why would she protect him?”
“That’s what I need to figure out. I’m going over to see our friend Paul.”
“I’m trying to keep an open mind. The way he dumped me for Molly, I mean, I really hate him. But that doesn’t mean he’d do something like this.”
“No, I guess it doesn’t.” I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Anybody ever tell you what a nice young woman you are?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Paul used to tell me that all the time. Before he fell in love with Molly.”
4
Paul lived in a large Colonial house on a wide suburban street filled with little kids doing stunts on skateboards.
As soon as his mother learned who I was, her polite smile vanished. “You don’t have any right to ask him any questions.”
I was still outside the front door. “The family has asked me to talk to him.”
“He didn’t do it,” she said. “I’ll admit that he’s been pretty involved with Molly lately. But he’d never hurt her. Ever. And that’s just what we told the police.”
She was a tall, slender woman in black slacks and a red button-down shirt. There was a kind of casual elegance to her movements, as if she might have long ago studied dance.
Behind her, a voice said: “It’s all right, Mom. I’ll talk to him.”
Paul was taller than his mother but slender in the same graceful way. There was a snub-nosed boyishness to the face that the dark eyes belied. There was age and anger in the eyes, as if he’d lived through a bitter experience lately and was not the better for it.
“You sure?” she said to Paul.
“Finish fixing dinner, Mom. I’ll talk to him.”
He wore a Notre Dame football jersey and ragged Levi cut-offs. His feet were bare. There was an arrogance about him, a certain dismissiveness in the gaze.
His mother gave me a last enigmatic look and then vanished from the doorway.
“I don’t have much time,” he said.
“I just have two questions.”
“The police had a lot more than two.”
“Can you account for your time the night Molly was cut up?”
“If I have to.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I mostly drove around to the usual places.”
“And ‘the usual places’ would be what exactly?”
“The mall and the parking lot next to the Hardees out on First Avenue and then out to the mall again.”
“And you can prove that?”
“Sure,” he said. But for the first time his lie became obvious. His gaze evaded mine.
I said: “I saw her.”
He didn’t ask me who “her” was.
“When?”
“A few hours ago.”
“Was she—”
“I didn’t get a real good look at her. The room was pretty dark.”
He surprised me, then, as human beings constantly do. His eyes got wet with tears. “The poor kid.”
“She’s a nice girl.”
“She’s a lot more than nice.”
“Susan’s nice, too.”
“Yeah, she is. And I treated her like shit and I’m sorry about it.” He cleared tears from his voice. “I couldn’t help— what I feel for Molly. It just happened.”
“Molly’s mother thinks you’re obsessed with her. In the clinical sense, I mean.”
“I love her. If that’s being obsessed.” He sounded a lot older and a lot wearier than he had just a few minutes ago.
“Her mother also thinks you were the one who cut her.”
He smiled bitterly. “That’s funny. I’ve been thinking it was her mother who did it.”
“Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Hell, yes, I’m serious. Her mother’s got a real problem with Molly. She’s very jealous of her. Molly told me how bitter she was when this Brad started coming after her. She pushed Molly down the stairs, bruised her up pretty bad.”
“She show you the bruises?”
“Yeah.”
“She wasn’t exaggerating?”
“Not at all.”
Somewhere inside, a telephone rang, was picked up on the second ring. His mother called: “Telephone, Paul.”
“Maybe I’d better get that.”
“You can prove where you were when Molly was being cut?”
He surprised me again. “No, I can’t, Mr. Dwyer. I can’t. I was alone.”
“How about the mall?”
He shrugged. “I just made it up.”
“Then you were doing what?”